


ask me to stay

by LeapAngstily



Series: Glitches in the Reality [5]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Curtains, Denial of Feelings, Dystopia, M/M, Married Life, Pre-Relationship, Rated for one swear word, Riccardo Montolivo/Andrea Pirlo (implied), Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28943478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: Memo and Riccardo get the promised curtains. A lot of things are left unsaid because Memo doesn't want to push, while Riccardo is still hung up on his safety blanket relationship.
Relationships: Riccardo Montolivo/Guillermo Ochoa
Series: Glitches in the Reality [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/193334
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	ask me to stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunasenzanotte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/gifts).



> This caters to the needs of exactly two people. Sorry not sorry. 
> 
> There might be more to come in this vein, because I really want to take this story to a territory where the ship tag is actually warranted, but right now I'm hungover and pissed off at Milan, so this is all I can get down on paper.
> 
> Written as a fill for the third week of [Cliché A Week 2021](https://montocalypse.tumblr.com/cliche-a-week) challenge, for the theme Arranged Marriage, which was a very specific request from my dearest Maria❤️

When Memo got his letter last summer, he had thought he knew what getting married meant.

His parents’ marriage was not a perfect point of reference, with their separate bedrooms and three-word conversations when his father was at home instead of another business trip. It was a marriage void of love or affection, but they had always made sure Memo lacked neither.

It was the painstaking efforts they had taken to ensure their marriage – while not passionate – worked and no one was left behind that had shaped Memo’s idea of partnerships long before he saw the first couples who were actually in love.

He had not expected to love his ‘perfect match’ either. What he _had_ expected, however, was to meet someone who was willing to work as hard as him to find the best solution for both of them, because once the names came out of the System, there was no option but to go with it.

Then he had first met Riccardo, for whom it had taken all of an hour to crush Memo’s carefully laid out plans, because to call Riccardo ‘uncooperative’ would have been an understatement of the century.

This all goes through Memo’s head as he watches Riccardo – his husband of two weeks – balance on a step ladder as he tries to hang their new curtains, a nice calming forest green to liven up the whites and beiges of Riccardo’s – no, _their_ – apartment.

Those curtains are the first real peace offering Riccardo has made in the six months they have known each other. Something to make Memo feel at home in the space that has always been Riccardo’s.

“Motherfucker… How exactly do they expect _anyone_ to hang these things when the fabric is so goddamn slippery?”

Memo steps in and takes a hold of Riccardo’s waist when he makes a dangerous grab for the falling curtain, the whole ladder threatening to tip over.

“Stop trying to kill my husband,” he berates softly when Riccardo looks down at him, eyes wide with an emotion Memo doesn’t quite know how to decipher. It is not entirely welcoming, but it is a far cry from the open hostility he still remembers from their first meeting.

“…Sorry,” Riccardo says as he finds his balance again and pushes Memo’s hands away, “I’m—not good with this sort of stuff. Got a decorator to take care of it when I first moved in.”

He waves a hand at the curtains that now lie on the floor, offering Memo a sheepish half-smile. “Mind giving me a hand? I’ll give it one more go before I give up for the day.”

Memo picks up the fabric and hands it to his husband. He doesn’t stray far from the ladder in case Riccardo makes another attempt at breaking his skull while doing a chore that should, all things considered, be a relatively easy one. A creative solution to get out of an unwanted marriage it may be, but Memo would rather not have a man’s life on his conscience.

Riccardo works in silence this time, clipping the curtains with meticulous precision while Memo holds the heavy end to stop the fabric from falling again. He dares one glance at Riccardo’s focused face, the tip of his tongue peeking between his lips and light blue eyes trained on the task at hand.

Memo had fallen for those eyes the moment he laid eyes on Riccardo. For a second, he had started believing in love at first sight.

Now, six months later, he knows better.

“There, all done!” Riccardo finally exclaims, a triumphant smile flashing over his features before he catches himself. He is beautiful when he smiles, though Memo has long since learned not to say such things out loud unless he wants Riccardo to clam up.

“You still got the other side,” Memo points out as he offers a hand to help Riccardo down the ladder. To his surprise, Riccardo takes it, his fingers cold inside Memo’s.

Everything about Riccardo is either hot or cold, Memo has come to realize – the cold front he puts up designed to hide how deeply and hotly he feels everything. That’s why their marriage can never be like the one Memo’s parents have – because the real Riccardo is all passion, in both good and bad.

“Oh, I’ll leave that side to you. They’re your curtains as much as mine.” A corner of Riccardo’s mouth inches up into a teasing smile. “Besides, you’re taller than me. Should’ve really left the whole thing to you, huh?”

Memo is still holding his hand. Riccardo looks down at the joined fingers, tightening his hold for maybe a second before he tugs himself out of Memo’s grasp.

“I— I promised I’d meet Andrea for coffee,” Riccardo mumbles as he takes a step back, not meeting Memo’s eyes.

It’s always Andrea, the one Riccardo’s blood runs hot for. Memo feels a familiar rush of something he doesn’t want to label as jealousy. Whenever Memo feels like they have grown a bit closer, Riccardo will pull back and run to his old friend – lover, Memo has come to accept – for safety.

He wants to ask Riccardo to stay. Instead, he simply asks, “Will you be long?”

Riccardo shrugs, a lost look crossing his eyes before he looks down at his feet. “I don’t know. They just got back from Dubai, so we’ve got a lot of catching up to do…”

“Okay,” Memo replies. He doesn’t know what else to say. Who is he to hold Riccardo back when he so obviously wants to be somewhere else?

Riccardo shifts his weight from one foot to another, visibly getting uncomfortable. “I could—I don’t know—reschedule? If you wanna finish up here today?”

“Wha--?” Oh, the curtains. “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure I can handle it on my own.” Memo turns his back to Riccardo quickly, picking up the ladder and moving it to the other side of their large living room windows. “You just enjoy yourself. Tell Andrea hi from me.”

It hurts to say it, but he knows it would hurt a lot more if he looked Riccardo in the eye and saw the relief that must be there.

“If you say so,” Riccardo’s voice sounds thin and breakable, but he has turned his back to Memo by the time he turns to look, so he cannot tell what it means.

Riccardo doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t slam the door when he leaves the apartment, and he doesn’t look up to their window when he emerges outside the building a few minutes later.

Six months since their first meeting and two weeks into their System-regulated marriage, and Memo still has no idea how to stop the dull ache in his chest whenever he watches Riccardo walk away.


End file.
